


A Soft Spring Never Quite Arriving

by Nighthaunting



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, heavily influenced by my loghain headcanons, secret omega loghain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nighthaunting/pseuds/Nighthaunting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little snippet of secret omega!loghain.</p><p>Set ostensibly during the stay at Redcliffe Castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soft Spring Never Quite Arriving

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Dragon Age Kink Meme prompt, but not really filling it.
> 
> http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/11571.html?thread=61795635#t61795635

He supposes he should have felt it coming, but he hadn’t, the strange low thrum of the Darkspawn blood in his veins had been enough of a distraction that by the time the first thread of heat had run its way up his spine it had been too late to do anything but thank the Maker that his scent had always been a subtle thing; kept close to his body and easily buried under the scents of leather, and armour, and soap, and the herbs his mother had taken him out to gather when he was young. Having been jolted from a sound sleep in his child’s-bed fevering and being tutted over by his parents, made to,drink dark-brewed tea while his parents exchanged worried glances and whispered to each other for reasons he hadn’t understood yet. 

Loghain’s mother had been an Avaar woman, and had told Loghain as a child how she’d run away from her tribe for adventure, to see beyond the Frostbacks and how she’d ended up falling in love with his father and marrying him. When she’d plaited the wind-braids into his hair and told him tales of the old mountains and the bones of the earth, and the great cycle. More, she’d told him after that first mild fever that revealed his sex, there was a cycle that lived in him and echoed the round of the world, the grow-decay turns of the earth they worked as farmers. Loghain has been enamored by the thought that he shared that precious thing with the land and it wasn’t until he was older that his mother had instead spoken to him about secrecy and safety and danger. Loghain had seen the cruelty the Orlesians wrought by then, and in his child’s mind it was simple to connect their abuses of Ferelden to what could become abuse of him should it ever be discovered what he shared with the land.

After his mother had been killed, and his father become a murderer, and they abandoned their farm for good, Loghain still kept his promise and his secret. he drank herbed tea every morning and kept to himself and washed with cold water. The delicacy of his personal scent had been a gift, made him an excellent scout, and left even Maric and Rowan unaware of the truth of how the earth rode in his body like a soft spring never quite arriving. Despite his heart he turned both of their faces to each other and left them, and when Celia wooed him with soft words, and steel will, and a gentling hand as though she tamed a beast and not a husband he loved her and he told Anora all the old tales of the Mountain King an the Star-Catcher and the bones of the earth as he cradled her to her chest.

In truth he feels foolish for never considering that the Joining could disrupt the careful truce the herbs struck, tipped over the careful balance that let him settle at one point of the circle without going around. But the Darkspawn blood had unsettled more than just his place in the world, and he can feel the warmth creeping through his body and sharpening everything he is. Loghain’s frustration at being disgraced and yet suddenly put into the most delicate bloom is palpable; sharp on his tongue. Without thought he intends to find Elissa, because half addled as he already is, he knows the scent of her, alpha-strong and so sure of herself, and knows at least that he can sit on the floor of her chamber with his sword and curl in on himself around the steel and know that she wouldn’t judge him for striking down anyone foolish enough to catch the dark-earth scent of omega around him and think for a single moment that Loghain Mac Tir was anything less than the strength of the earth in the turning of things, for all that he himself had been turned against.


End file.
